Fiction. Spring. PG
TITLE: Spring
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
CHARACTERS: Jack Aubrey, Preserved Killick
WORD COUNT: 345
GENRE: slash
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Follows after Long Dark Winter of His Soul Spring comes and Jack is still without his Stephen.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I realized that I have left you all on tenterhooks regarding Stephen’s whereabouts.
Jack sat at his breakfast table half-heartedly poking at his food. For one of the very few times in his life, food held no interest for him.
He sipped his weak coffee and glanced out the window. The seasons had changed. The sun was shining brightly over the gardens of Woolcombe. But Jack saw them naught.
It was spring and still no word from Stephen. Jack had been certain that his particular friend would have returned by this time.
Killick came into the room. “Which cook won’t be pleased to have wittles go un et again,” he said as he put the silver tray of mail down on the corner of the table.
Jack looked up darkly.
“Which I was saving the good grounds for when the Doctor is home.” Killick mumbled as he took away the empty container.
Jack picked up the thick sheaf of letters. He glanced half heartedly at each one and tossed each back on the platter. Until the last one.
The envelope was smudged and shabby. It was as if the letter had endured a long journey.
He looked at the address. The handwriting was strange but oddly familiar.
He opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper.
His heart leapt at the salutation;
My plum,
It was from Stephen. Jack glanced at the date in the upper corner of the letter. It was dated just barely a week after Stephen had disappeared.
Jack read further.
I was required to send this letter by a rather serpentine route to avoid exposure.
Rest assured that I am alive and well. I hope to return in the spring and explain further.
Jack smiled broadly. He folded the letter carefully and placed it in his pocket. He rose and walked over to the window and looked out. Damn! There was that bird that he had startled from the bush in the cold dark days of winter, sitting on the sill regarding him with strangely pale eyes.
“Stephen, you old cove. You are alive. You will be coming back to me.”
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
CHARACTERS: Jack Aubrey, Preserved Killick
WORD COUNT: 345
GENRE: slash
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Follows after Long Dark Winter of His Soul Spring comes and Jack is still without his Stephen.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I realized that I have left you all on tenterhooks regarding Stephen’s whereabouts.
Jack sat at his breakfast table half-heartedly poking at his food. For one of the very few times in his life, food held no interest for him.
He sipped his weak coffee and glanced out the window. The seasons had changed. The sun was shining brightly over the gardens of Woolcombe. But Jack saw them naught.
It was spring and still no word from Stephen. Jack had been certain that his particular friend would have returned by this time.
Killick came into the room. “Which cook won’t be pleased to have wittles go un et again,” he said as he put the silver tray of mail down on the corner of the table.
Jack looked up darkly.
“Which I was saving the good grounds for when the Doctor is home.” Killick mumbled as he took away the empty container.
Jack picked up the thick sheaf of letters. He glanced half heartedly at each one and tossed each back on the platter. Until the last one.
The envelope was smudged and shabby. It was as if the letter had endured a long journey.
He looked at the address. The handwriting was strange but oddly familiar.
He opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper.
His heart leapt at the salutation;
My plum,
It was from Stephen. Jack glanced at the date in the upper corner of the letter. It was dated just barely a week after Stephen had disappeared.
Jack read further.
I was required to send this letter by a rather serpentine route to avoid exposure.
Rest assured that I am alive and well. I hope to return in the spring and explain further.
Jack smiled broadly. He folded the letter carefully and placed it in his pocket. He rose and walked over to the window and looked out. Damn! There was that bird that he had startled from the bush in the cold dark days of winter, sitting on the sill regarding him with strangely pale eyes.
“Stephen, you old cove. You are alive. You will be coming back to me.”